Special - Ryden

Chapter Four

TW//

Abuse, slurs

"Ryan, you can't stay in this house." 

"What?"

"You leave, or I take you to a special place."

"I-I don't want to leave, I can't go, I can't, what would I do-"

I'm cut off by the feeling of my dad's hand flying across my face.

It hurts, it stings. The kind of stinging that's breathtaking, where it feels like it's eating into your skin.

I gasp for air, and when I catch it tears are streaming down my face. 

"Men don't cry, Ryan. Faggot."

His hand balls into a fist and comes at me again, this time for a punch. I cover my fave with my hands and he hits my arms. I hear a crack and a shooting pain and I fall over.

By this point I'm sobbing as he continues to kick me. I don't know what I did wrong. I can barely feel what he's doing now though.

"You know what... you can stay."

The next day I pack a bag and jump through my window. I take off running and all of my worries from the previous day are left behind. My body is bruised nearly everywhere and running feels more like my body is being torn apart but I don't care. I can't stay, I want to go anywhere but here. 

I stay on the streets for about a week. That's when he found me. He grabbed me by my wrists and pulled me up from my sitting position, keeping a hold on me the whole way home. That's when I got the worst of it. He took me out of school for a while after I told my friend who called the cops on him. At that point it had been a few days since anything happened, so most of the bruises were faded. I still had a few scars though. I was going to tell them, I was so close to doing it. They left the room then.

My dad grabbed me by the collar, promising me death if I told. He told me to say I was looking for attention, I had just gotten into a fight at school. So I did. They seemed suspicious, but they left.

We moved once to a really small, run down town with a shitty school. The people there all sucked. They bullied me, every single one of the very few students there, and so when I told them about the abuse none of them cared. Not even the teachers.

We moved again. Another shitty school. My dad was starting to give up on everything. He did things about half as much as he used to, and I don't mean that as specifically to me but... anything in general.

We move. Again. It's a slightly nicer school, a cheaper, smaller, shittier house. This is when he started staying in his room all the time, and when he wasn't I had to avoid him at all costs.
And then we move a final time. That's where we are now. I hope this one will last.


I think about everything on my way to Brendon's. I don't know what to tell him and what I shouldn't. Probably leave out my dad at all costs.

The past few days have been nice.

The group at school has asked me multiple times if I'm going crazy or if I'm on something. That's because I've done a few nice things for them. It's funny how insane it seems to them, and it says something about me. I haven't been completely better though. Just a little. 

In school the teachers have been okay, though not the best. Most of them call me Ryan. I haven't gotten beaten up at school yet.

I get to his house. It's a nice, kind of big house. It's white and has a nice train from the driveway to the door, it's individual flat blocks of rock laid in the dirt, a train of smaller, natural white-ish rocks about a third of a foot away from the path. They have a huge tree and a lot of flowers. Bushes boarder the house and are nicely cut. They have a big front porch with a small but fancy table with two chairs by it. They have a nice railing lining the stairs, it's a shimmery white.